


A Touch of Vanilla

by PalakPaneerLover



Category: Voltron - Fandom, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Gay Lance (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Smut, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lemon, M/M, Singing Keith (Voltron), Singing Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, Slow Burn Keith/Lance (Voltron), Smut, Voltron, interior designer lance, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-29 17:39:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16748605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PalakPaneerLover/pseuds/PalakPaneerLover
Summary: Lance lives happily in his city flat but becomes unsatisfied with his life as a movie theatre waiter. His true passion lies in Interior Design so impulsively, he applies to design the set of a music video for a local singer (Keith). Although Lance only applied to be the video's set designer, he is roped into filling the role of "The Singer's Boyfriend" As the role calls for an LGBT boy rep and Lance fits the role "exquisitely!" as Lotor, the director would say. Lance feels uneasy about shooting semi-explicit content for Keith's music video but feels it might be exactly the change in his life he needed.





	1. Chirp C418

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoy!  
> This is estimated to be a long story so bear with me  
> Still being updated and edited :)

Lance’s life wasn’t what he wanted in fact, his hate for it grew daily. He longed for the life he’d always dreamed of, one where he could be everything he aspired to be, without any restriction of money or judgment. Day by day it would grow harder for Lance to bear his minimum wage theatre job or the bland clothes that didn’t fit him in the slightest.

“Soon.” He always assured himself. “Soon I’m going to change everything”

Naturally, he wrote about all this nightly in his journal. He found himself doing so more and more often. It was somewhere he could spill his emotions and secrets when he wasn’t able to tell Hunk or Pidge. however, tonight differed. He began writing in his journal, but the usual appeal and charm the diary once had on him, had faded. It was a feeling of comfort that came from knowing, falsely of course, that the journal _wanted_ to know his problems, celebrations, and occasionally every detail of his day. Lance had once confessed to his diary:

“Entry 82:  
It's hard to admit. But sometimes I feel like writing in here makes up for all the times I listened to other's, but no one listened to me. Wow, that's emo. I guess what I mean is not many people want to hear me talk about everything I did today or my feelings throughout the day. I guess this journal is somewhere I can say all these things, and not worry about annoying anyone.  
Hope your not annoyed, Journal.  
-Lance”

But tonight, the diary wasn’t giving him that relief any longer. Tonight as he was writing, he put down his pen before finishing his entry. Lance sighed, as this was one part of the day he really depended on and it didn’t feel as it used to. He thought maybe it was because nothing was changing. The diary was becoming a place for him to solely complain instead of using it to improve. As he looked back through the old pages, he noticed his entries became more and more dreadful, always about the same thing.  
“Dear Diary: I want a boyfriend. Dear Diary: I want a different job. Dear Diary: I want more money” Yet he never did anything about it. Perhaps it could be a good thing to not write tonight.

“One day…” Land groaned to himself. He decided instead of compiling his words in the journal tonight, he would try closing his eyes and think to himself. he stood up from his neat bed and danced to the kitchen to prepare hot water. He would begin to make a soothing vanilla tea that he never failed to drink around the same time every night. Lance’s routine was one of the things he cherished. That and his home. Lance poured his heart, love, and tears into his studio apartment. Since he was a little boy he constantly put aside money to save for the one day he’d finally buy his own place.

Obnoxiously, the kettle began to whistle. He measured some herbs from a jar. Lance often made his own tea blends, something else he was very passionate about. His teas are “harmonious!” as Hunk liked to tell him. While waiting for his tea to steep, Lance admired the framed ‘artwork’ on the wall across from him. Old brown paper, wrinkled with age. On it, floorplans, interior ideas, shopping list for everything he envisioned of having in his dream home. The pages of youthful ideas were embraced by a modern wooden frame to compliment it all. Lance felt rather proud anytime he looked back on his old plans. Growing up, his family wasn’t exactly rich. It was a lot of work but Lance had bought everything with the money he saved, which made him all the more proud of himself and where he lived. Because almost, if not all, the ideas scribbled by young Lance on old restaurant napkins or stained paper had come to life in his home around him.

His home was that out of a magazine. Lush plants that make the room spring to life. An elegant combination of tiles and mirrors to give dimension and texture to any room. A rug you could drown in, its color, chosen specifically to bring every other in. All to create an interior masterpiece. It was truly beautiful. Interior Design was something Lance has had a passion for, as long as he can remember. He furnished his family's house when he was twelve. Lance’s mom was so incredibly proud, and soon word quickly spread about him. Most of the homes in his neighborhood he helped design. While this did grow suspicion, and eventually led to a lot of teasing, Lance didn’t regret any of it. It all helped build where he is today. Lance beamed for a moment, but miserably, as if someone had held a mirror to his life, his smile to himself dwindled.

“...Working a minimum wage job at a movie theatre” Instantly the pride he felt a moment ago disappeared. “I can’t believe all my mom’s support and my hard work resulted in me being a waiter” The feeling felt all too familiar. When he complained in his journal he felt the same daunting disappointment as he did now. Lance looked over. The diary caught his eye from where it was sitting. After staring at it a moment longer, he came to the conclusion that dwelling on what was wrong wasn't going to get him anywhere. Thinking this sent a surge of inspiration through him. He continued on his way towards the balcony, a little more bounce to his step.

  
He held his mug close and brought over a chair to hoist himself up onto his light blue hammock stationed quite high off the ground. Lance felt cozy and safe with a warm mug of tea, leisurely unwinding so high up. Although he wasn’t really allowed to have anything on his patio. Lance lived in a studio flat on the twelfth floor of his building. It was perfect for him except Allura had a very strict way of running things. But ever since Lance shared some of his mom's sweets with her, they quickly became friends and she grew to be more lenient with her tenant. It should be noted, that now whenever Lance’s mom sends a care package, she includes a little something for Allura as well. He was thankful for Allura allowing him to keep his hammock up. He found himself up here often. Watching the stars, listening to the city sounds, dreaming about what was to come. Hopefully, come. It was the best part of his day. He lay there now. Instinctively picturing his future in as much detail as he could. Lance spoke to himself, his voice silky:

“A simple life, full of passion and love. Every day I would wake up and sleepily make my way out of bed, and the best part. Turning around to see someone still sound asleep behind me. I stand up, reluctantly leaving the warm sheets we heated together, and kiss him on the head before beginning some light morning chores. I water my plants, feed our cat, fold our laundry, pick up pastries and coffee from next door and strum a little on my guitar until the sun gets up, and so does he. We eat together and get ready for the day. Or maybe we’re a little rebellious and slip back in bed to enjoy the morning a bit longer. The sun peaks through the windows lighting up the flat with warmth. Or maybe its a soft day filled with rain and fog.” No one was listening, at least so he thought, but hearing his own voice aloud made the dream all the more real, like a soft narration of everything he’d ever wanted.

Lance found himself wrapped up in his fantasy of warmth and rain. His eyes began to fall heavy and he couldn’t stay awake long enough to finish his muse. Taking the last sip of his tea, he let the warmth of the vanilla bean hug him, embalming his dreams to let them dance in his head through the night.


	2. Borderline: Cluster B

Lance began to stir early morning, still snug in his hammock. Rarely did he ever use his bed anymore once he found the hammock offered a better night sleep. When the moment came, he opened his eyes, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he had beat the sun once again at its own game. Many times when he didn’t have work he found himself waking up just a few minutes before the sun peaked its eager head above the horizon to wake up its city. Lance turned over to watch its somber mist float between buildings, this morning felt different. He felt renewed. It might have been the crisp air that nimbly swept his body or the warm polyester underneath him, heated from a long stay. Lance knew the fresh air always offered revitalization and a clear mind. Quietly, He enjoyed a few deep breaths, grateful for his tranquil utopia above the ground.

  
Eventually, Lance climbed down from his floating bed and tiptoed to the kitchen, careful not to make any noise that would risk disturbing the peace settled like a crown on the room around him. He began an elegant dance of making his morning chai, each movement was graceful and on beat with the morning’s soft rhythm. This morning he awoke with an ambition to write again in his journal but to exclude any complaining. He was determined to recognize the good things in his life and work through some of his problems.

  
“It's going to be a good Saturday” Lance chimed, his voice fruity. He walked back to his balcony, Chai in hand. This time he sat in a comfy wooden chair setting both his tea and his journal down on the glass table in front of him. His leg swung in and out beneath him, hitting the chair across from him a few times. Lance enjoyed the subtle “thunk” the chair made when he tapped it. After enjoying the rhythm for a few more moments, Lance set his tea down to open his journal, fingering through the pages until he landed on an empty page. He decided to list a few good things, which was harder than he thought but practice would eventually make perfect. He wrote:

 _“Diary Entry 83:_  
_Journal, I think you’ll be relieved to hear more positive things are going to get written in you. Better late than never right? Heres some things that went well about my week. This last Sunday I volunteered at the pet shelter! I helped feed the pets, play with them and even got a cool scratch from one of the cats named Keith! I got it when I tried to touch his toy… Keith has a hard time being adopted they said. I feel bad because I know that he's a good cat, even though he attacked me, that shouldn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a loving owner… I volunteer again this upcoming week so I will update you on more to come then. I guess the next positive thing is…_ I slept _really well last night? My tea this morning taste very good... “_

Lance decided to end the entry there. He admitted to himself, this week wasn’t all that great so there wasn’t much to reflect on. Maybe he would find more and more positive things throughout his day as time went on, for now, this was a good start. Lance sipped down the last of his tea and after washing his own mug, he decided to dress for the day. There weren’t many choices in his closet. Lance sat at the base of his close, pondering his options. In his closet were a few hoodies, worn sweatshirts, a few T-shirts and his uniform. He desperately wanted to find clothes that were his style and eccentric, for now, he would have to settle with a casual hoodie and skinny jeans. He glanced at himself in the mirror. “Geez, I’m handsome” Lance’s hair fell perfectly and his morning face always looked so fresh and radiant. Feeling pretty good he grabbed his phone, keys, airpods, and some tote bags to head out. Lance had a small bug car that was his sister’s once. She had given it to him as a gift when he first came to America. It was a calming shade of blue that Lance rather liked.

  
Lance would begin his errands at Craftsman, a small cafe he frequented often. He parked in his usual spot and opened the door, inside he found a small line, not too bad. Lance decided he would put in his order and run to the restroom. Usually, by the time he was done, his drink was waiting for him. However, the funny thing about Craftsman’s bathroom is their lock has always been busted. Instead, the cafe uses a “vacant” or “occupied” sign on the bathroom door. Not really the smartest idea, but the area was safe enough, no one really had to worry.

  
Lance began washing his hands. Thankfully, he was already finished because the door had burst open. In came a guy about Lance’s age, he wore a red hoodie with black skinny jeans, Lance took notice to his face and even more to his hair. Lance wasn’t going to lie he really liked his hair though he thought it must have been breaking some kind of fashion rule. But isn’t that how trends start? The man had black hair that fell against his forehead and trailed down his neck. Reality finally caught up with Lance. “...Sorry, the bathroom is occupied right now.” He said firmly at first, then mumbled then to himself. “I could have sworn I remembered to flip the sign”

  
The guy gave a look at Lance up and down before speaking. “Obviously… But I could really care less” He shut the door behind him and pressed his back up against it, occasionally pressing his ear to it. This frustrated Lance.

  
“What the hell? What if I was still using it, or there could have been someone else in here! A mother even!” Lance trailed off as he couldn’t comprehend the audacity for someone to invade another’s privacy intentionally. To add, the guy wasn’t even paying him any attention, as if this was normal. “Hey!” Lance snapped his fingers a few times raising the head of the guy who had his focus on the tiny crack between the door and the wall. “Fine, have the bathroom if you want it so badly, what are you doing anyway?”

  
Lance had his attention for all of a second before he ignored him again and responded.“It's none of your business”

  
This response angered Lance, he thought to himself. _“Of course it was my business! I was using the bathroom! What if I was actually still using it… how embarrassing.”_ Lance didn’t care who he was anyone, he pissed him off and all he wanted was to pick up the “Iced chai tea! Almond milk with low ice for Lance?” He heard his order being called and he found this as good a time as any to shove the guy out of the way and make an escape.

  
“Hey! What the fuck?” The guy was shoved out of the way by lance’s eager arm. After the door was opened, Lance snuck out, hauling his tote bags with him. “Who carries tote bags?” Was the last thing Lance heard before he slammed the door shut behind him and marched to the counter. Finally his drink in hand, Lance really thought the rude interruptions were done.

  
“Hey! You! You seen a dumbass with a red hoodie?” As Lance began to walk to an open seat near the window he was stopped by a tall man with white hair. The man wore a loose lavender button-down tucked neatly into skinny black dress pants. He looked very artistic… and obnoxious.

  
“Check the bathroom” Lance mumbled as he shoved past the gentlemen and heavily sat himself down at a small table for one. The man rushed off to the bathrooms and Lance took no more notice at any of the ruckus made in that area. Instead, he took a deep breath and tried to forget his bad mood. His mind kept trailing back to the asshole who barged in on him until he took a few sips of his chai. Everything soon faded away the more sips he took. Lance thought this is why he liked his teas so much, they had a way of bringing him back.

  
The cafe resumed its usual chatter and Lance felt his morning motivation returning. Once he felt he’d forgotten earlier’s chaotic events, he pulled out a journal, one he used for grocery lists. Once he began scribbling some things down, he noticed the table Aside to his to be unusually loud. A couple of girls sat chatting away, he recognized them, he saw them here often. However, the girls were usually a quiet bunch, today their table was alive with chatter.

  
“I know! I heard the singer Kieth Kogane is sooo hot. It's so exciting! Are you going to audition?” One of the girls chimed “I don’t know… it says here on the flyer that they want an actor that’s of LGBT. I’m not, I’d rather not lie either.” Their talking overlapped one another. “Aww that's too bad, I can’t either… Well, are there any other positions available?” “Um… yeah! It says set designer or something like that, I don’t think that's for us though.” Lance stopped listening by then, they talked over one another as they threw away their cups and left the cafe.

  
They left the flyer on the table though, and Lance couldn’t take his focus off of it. For some reason, it enticed him. He kept thinking to himself. _“You have a job already, why are you interested? It's not like you could be either of those things.”_ Lance was at odds with himself, but at the end of his internal argument he figured taking the flyer with him was harmless.

  
Once Lance left the cafe, he felt a little charged at the thought of set designing for this music video. As Lance picked up his groceries he fantasized about his name becoming big and getting new and exciting clients. As Lance picked up new soil for his plants he then fantasized how beautiful the set would look and the director would be head over heels for his work. These fantasies played and danced in his head as he finished up the last of his running.

The day was almost over by the time he arrived home. He opened the door with his foot, his arms were accessorized with 3 totes on each arm and one in each hand. He scoffed to himself as he remembered the strange man’s comment earlier. _“Who carries tote bags?”_ Lance shook his head and set the totes on the counter. “I do.” Lance said out loud. He knew it was weird to always use tote bags for everything, but his mom used them for a reason. They were so convenient and made errands so much easier. _“Not to mention I’m helping save the earth this way.”_ He thought. Everything he bought was unloaded, and upon unloading the last bag he saw the flyer lying crumpled at the bottom. Lance sighed and set it on a table near the door. Upon seeing it again he grew thoughtful, aggravated, and excited all at once. He did what he usually does when feeling confused and filled the kettle up with fresh water.

  
Once more, Lance walked past his journal sitting on the couch and made his way to his balcony to climb up onto his hammock. It was nighttime now, and he was itching to talk to himself again, last night it seemed to help.

  
“Alright Lance, here we go.” After he became situated he started the ‘conversation’. “I know I’m interested in the job. But it would be stupid to take it, I’m not a designer. I’m just a waiter at a movie theatre. I’m just some amateur kid, right? No way they would like my work... My work?” Lance scoffed to himself. “Sure I designed my home and a few other's, but will they think that's experience?” Turns out the talk didn’t relax Lance as much as he’d hoped. Giving up, he fell into a restless sleep, unsure about his decisions.

  
He didn’t feel much better come morning either. He awoke groggily and grumpily climbed down from his hammock. If he wasn’t so tired he would have noticed the envelope in front of his door, instead, it took a few hours of lounging around to take notice of the note.

  
“An envelope? Maybe it's my rent notice? Usually, Allura just sends me a text tho” Curiosity waking him up more, he slid his thumb underneath the folded paper and pulled out a piece of cardstock. On it just said:

  
_“To the resident of 815:_  
_Have more faith in yourself! Apply for the position.”_

  
Lance felt his eyes widen. _“Was this some kind of joke? How did anyone know about it? Why is this so creepy? I bet Allura is behind this.”_ Settling with the last thought, Lance pulled out his phone and texted Allura.

Lance: _Good joke Allura, now how did you know about the position?_

Allura: _Well Good Morning! What joke?? And what position??_

Lance: _Don’t play dumb, the envelope you slid under my door!_

Allura: _WHAT ENVELOPE? I’m not even at the residence, I just arrived back from the Caribbean this morning. Speaking of which, I’m stranded at the airport...Wanna come pick me up? We can discuss this envelope you speak of. I miss my favorite tenant ;(_

Lance: _Okay...This better not be you. I’ll see you_ in _45!_

 _“Whatever…”_ Lance thought. This was probably best anyway, he had to admit, the note was a little creepy. He threw on sweatpants and a different hoodie from yesterday and grabbed his keys off the hook.

“Lance! You sure are a sight for sore eyes, come here!” Lance tried to help Allura with her bags but she pulled him into a hug before he could do anything. He really did miss her. She was gone for a full month, I guess that's the beauty of working for yourself. After a long hug and packing the car full of her luggage, they set off back to home. There was so much to talk about, and they spent most of the car ride chatting about Allura’s trip, then catching up on Lance’s life (not that there was much to catch up on) Lance told her about his unhappiness with his life. Allura had been through her fair share of struggles herself, sometimes Lance felt like she was the only person that understood him. “So tell me about this mysterious envelope,” Allura mentioned after they had finished catching up.

  
“Someone slide it under my door either last night... or this morning…” He shook his head. “Anyway, I found a cardstock inside that wrote “Have more faith in yourself! Apply for the position.” Here I brought it with me” Lance handed her the envelope that was stashed under his leg. She took it and glanced it over.

  
“Wow… kinda creepy. But Lance what is this position they are talking about?” Lance felt conflicted again but decided he would tell her anyway.

  
“I stopped by Craftsman yesterday and heard some girls talking about a position opening for a music video.” He sighed. “They were looking for an actor or something, but what caught my attention was the set designer position. I can’t let myself get excited though, its just a stupid dream, I'm not a designer anyway.” Lance felt a little guilty being so rude to himself, but he didn’t want Allura to think there was even a chance he would apply.

  
“Lance! This is amazing news!” I guess she didn’t get that hint. “Lance are you out of your mind?! Apply, this could seriously be the start of something great!” She must’ve seen the look of doubt and annoyance on Lance’s face because she followed up. “Lance McClain. If you don’t apply I will evict you.” She said this so sternly it almost made Lance believe her. He knew she wasn’t being serious, but he could tell she was dead serious on annoying him until he did. Lance wouldn’t budge though, while part of him wanted this, the other part was too scared to be rejected.

  
“Can we just change the subject, please. Whoever wrote that knew about my feelings. I don’t understand how?” Lance felt confused the more he thought about it.  
“Why don’t I sleep over tonight? I can investigate! It will be just like the old days.” Lance smiled at this idea, they used to have sleepovers all the time and it brought back good memories to hear her say that again. Not to mention it would be a relief to not be alone tonight.

  
“That sounds like a great idea. Thank you.” The rest of the car ride flew by, though unloading bags was slow, but once everything was unpacked they were able to relax in Lance’s living room. They chatted and chatted, staying up till the late hours and eventually calling it a night.

  
Allura doesn’t sleep though. Its one of the reasons Allura is always tired during the day. “The night is just too interesting to sleep through it!” She would say. So on this night, while Lance was fast asleep on the couch she decided to poke around a little. They were close enough friends that it didn’t matter. She moseyed around on the balcony, Allura noticed he still slept on the hammock every night, she didn’t blame him though. “Its so calm out here” She whispered to herself, relaxing her arms on the balcony ledge.

  
“Yes. It is” A wise voice unexpectedly answered back and caught her off guard. Allura curiously glanced around.

  
“Hello? Who said that?” She didn’t know where it came from so she asked the city view as if expecting it to answer back. Instead, a voice above her answered.

  
“Me, dear. Unit 915” The voice sounded amused. “Call me Grandma Slav. That what all my grandchildren call me. You and that boy can be my grandchildren as well.” Slav mused to herself slightly.

  
“Slavia! Good to hear from you, it's Allura darling.” Allura answered to the bottom part of Slav’s balcony above her. She couldn’t see the neighbor, but she knew her enough to know that she was probably petting her cat in her favorite chair.

  
“Oh! Allura Allura! Good to hear from you too, I hope your trip to the Caribbean was everything you’d hoped dear.” Slav talked in a way that sounded like she had a bright grin on her face.

  
“It was. And more!” Allura paused for a few seconds and followed her hunch. “Slavia do you ever hear anything from the resident here? I don’t know maybe, talking?”

  
Slavia chuckled before mentioning “Oh yes yes dear, all the time. That boy talks to himself every night. I must know him better than himself by now. He goes on and on about his dreams, conflicts...” Allura could picture her waving her hands as she continued to list the things Lance talked to himself about. Everything made much more sense now. “I even went through all the trouble of leaving him a note to try to help him make his decision. Now, I’ve never seen him or his work before, but from the way he talks… I know he has something special.” There were a few moments of pause. “Allura you make sure that boy applies for that position, or so help me I will apply for him myself” Grandma Slav laughed to herself and the creaking of a chair could be heard. “Well, Allura it was good talking but this old woman has got to get some sleep now. You should think about doing the same, too many late nights will do a number on you as you get older, I can tell you that. Goodnight now dear!”

  
Allura laughed to herself. “Goodnight! Thank you for the advice” Allura waited a few moments more until she heard Slavia shut her balcony door before making her way in herself. Lance was still asleep on the couch. On the counter, a light green flyer lie crumpled. Allura knew she shouldn’t, but Slavia was right, sometimes people just need a little push. She grabbed the paper off the counter.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this will get better with time, and also when I get more sleep :) Thank you for reading!


End file.
